I rushed into the room while my luggage was still in
the car. “Your grandmother is waiting for you”, my aunt said. It was last
December, and I had just arrived from the airport after having traveled more
than 8000 miles from New York City to this coastal city of Calicut in northern
Kerala in India to see her. She was sick and bedridden for some time. Seeing me
entering the room, she gave a big wide smile and kept looking at me. I hadn’t
seen her for more than four years. There was a glow around her and that
wide smile was almost angelic; it is now etched into my mind forever. “We
haven’t seen this smile for months”, my aunt added. Apparently she had not smiled for days and
weeks.
A few days after my arrival, on
a pleasant tropical Christmas day, we were in the car taking her back to the
ancestral home. An Indian Santa Claus in a ridiculous costume was
crossing the street in the furious traffic and he was drunk. I started laughing
when I saw him and my grandmother also basked in the humor along with me, even
though she was very weak. Others in the car also joined us mostly
because of the joy in seeing my grandmother laugh.
Last week, on Wednesday around
noon, I was in downtown New York City near Battery Park working on my laptop
when I had a sudden feeling of uneasiness. Something felt not right
and I immediately called my mom who lives in Michigan. “What made you
to call me from work, do you have ESP or something?”, she asked. She said she had
been feeling uneasy that whole day since grandmother was not well and was
trying to decide when to go to India to see her again. “Should I go in
September?”, she asked me. I felt a rush of energy and emotion and I blurted
out, “No, you better go now”. “You mean I should book tickets for
this week?”. “Yes, immediately and as soon as you can. Go on Friday if you
can.”, I said.
This Wednesday closer to
midnight I was in bed getting ready to sleep and randomly browsing the internet
on my iPad when my dad called me. My grandmother had passed away
peacefully while my mom was by her bed side. I don’t know what force
or energy had forced me to convince my mom to go to India, but she was able to
spend almost three days with her mother and take care of her in the hospital
with her siblings.
My grandmother Safiya was born
to a Muslim business family in the late 1930’s and married off to my
grandfather around the age of 15 (my grandfather was about 19). She
gave birth to 10 children and by the time she was 30 years old, she already had
a large family and enormous responsibilities. I remember visiting her on
vacation when I was a child and she would be the first one to wake up to make
sure that breakfast was warm and ready and hot chai was on its way. Food
was the focal point for social interactions in her household with chicken
biryani prepared on special occasions. The aroma of the spices would fill the
air and my mouth would water and as a child who didn’t grow up there, I would try
to make use of my minimal vacation time by eating and playing at the house as
much as I could. I enjoyed the role of being the first girl grandchild of
the family for a long time.
My dad’s mother also has a similar story. I was
a teenager when I last saw her and I still remember my last words to her that hot April afternoon, “see you again”. She was a strong and determined woman
who also gave whatever she could to the world, whether it was passing out
“foreign” candy we brought with us to the neighborhood children or giving a
little more extra to someone in need. Both of my grandmothers were only teenagers when
they were pushed into responsibilities. Their lives were charted out for
them instead of being able to plan their own futures.
They didn’t have time to think
about what their passions in life were. They didn’t think about what to
wear to the next event or what new restaurant to try. They didn’t think
about makeup or shows or books or travel or shoes, for that matter. I
can’t even compare my life living in New York City to that of my grandmothers
since they both put me to shame in how much they had compromised, accomplished,
and sacrificed for their families.
